ROUND THE CAMP FIRE 311 



green pool ; and on the flat rocks around it lay a pack of 

 wild dogs. 



I wriggled a little nearer, and watched this interesting 

 group from a distance of about thirty yards. Half sunk in 

 the water reddened by his blood lay the carcase of a 

 young sambar, while his murderers reposed in various 

 easy attitudes around. A couple of them, not yet fully 

 gorged, tugged at a leg projecting above the water, and 

 every now and then made a furious charge, leaping and 

 snapping, among a crowd of expectant vultures that sat 

 importunately around. Bits of flesh lay here and there on 

 the rocks by their satisfied owners. Whether it was the 

 change in tone of the cawing of Corvus, ever watchful on 

 the tree on the bank, a slant of betraying wind, or an 

 instinctive feeling of impending danger, I do not know, 

 but after about five minutes there was a sudden stampede 

 in my direction ; so calling to my orderly to use the "577 

 with the best possible effect on the brutes, the sharp crack 

 of the "303 sounded the death-knell of one of the rascals, 

 and another escaped hard hit. I regret to say that the 

 577 did not have a look in at all, for I should have liked 

 to exterminate the whole gang. 



While skinning the wild dog, a couple of Korkus ar- 

 rived and asked to be permitted to take away all that 

 remained of the sambar. From these jungle-men I gath- 

 ered that they, in common with the crow and vulture, 

 were very frequently supplied with meat by these maraud- 

 ing packs. 



Although counting myself lucky at having had this 

 glimpse into the inner life of the jungle, I should have 

 liked still better to have been in at the death. It must 

 have been a fine sight the failing deer making, with the 

 instinct of his race, for the last resource (water), the fierce 

 attack of the hungry dogs, and the final struggle in the 

 pool. A scene well worthy of the brush. 



Again the scene is changed. I am walking up the old 



